


Raised a Devil

by Rinari7



Category: NCIS, Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drug Trafficking (mentioned), Gen, Irish Mob, Kind of dark, mafia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-18 00:31:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7292368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinari7/pseuds/Rinari7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caitlin Todd and her half-sister Maura Isles were both raised by their father, Paddy Doyle, though their resulting paths couldn't have been more different.<br/>But when the murder of a Navy officer sics Special Agent Gibbs on the mob's trail, Maura's family can no longer be kept a secret, and neither of their lives will ever be the same again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flootzavut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flootzavut/gifts), [Doctorinblue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctorinblue/gifts).



> Inspired by [this gifset on tumblr](http://perkyeeyore.tumblr.com/post/75917673890/good-twin-evil-twin-x-au-kate-was-raised-by).
> 
> Ratings/warnings may change.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” Kate rubbed her forehead, taking a step back to make sure to keep well away from the pool of blood forming beneath the man lying on the asphalt, his dog tags tracing a line of silver through the dark liquid. “He’s a Navy guy! You know what that means?”   
  


She waved Sean and Ryan over. They laid out a tarp a few feet away from the body. With plastic covering their hands and boots, they put the dead man on it and began rolling it up and duct-taping it to create a neat bundle.

  
“No, ma’a–uh, boss.” The street-level underling–she didn’t know his name, nor did she care–shook his head, his shoulders tense as he awaited the rest of her wrath. At least he wasn’t sniveling at his first shooting–and maybe it wasn’t his first–though he did still look a little green. She gazed at the pink hovering over the roofs of the warehouses, and estimated how long they’d have until this place became populated. Not nearly long enough to clean it up properly.

  
“It means that we’ll get NCIS on our case, you nitwit! The police are one thing, and NCIS is another. Our guy inside got shot last week, and NCIS isn’t like the regular police, who have all the traffic violations and random suicides and shit to deal with. NCIS deals  _ only _ with crimes concerning the Navy and the Marines, and if they get a whiff of this they’ll be all over us with everything they’ve got.”

He visibly paled, and she sneered. “Do you get it now?”

  
“I didn’t know what else to do! He saw me with  the coke, and–he was pulling out his cell phone–”

“Is the phone still  _ on _ him?” She held up one hand towards Sean, who gestured to his companion to set the bundled body down.

“Uh, I don’t know…”

She sighed. “I guess it doesn’t matter now. The seawater will short it out anyways.” At a nod from her, the pair continued loading the body into the bed of the pickup.

“Unless it’s waterproof…” He gulped as she turned a glare on him.

“Are you  _ trying _ to impress me with the magnitude of your fuck-up?” She growled, and jerked her head towards the bed of the truck. “Hose. Grab it, find somewhere to hook it up, and rinse the blood off this place. I’ll deal with you properly later.”

  
He nodded, and she turned her back on him to approach Sean.

“Have Ryan drop it off at the usual spot, or a bit further down the shore. Preferably a place without rocks for it to catch on this time. We might have to change the disposal MO if the police get ahold of more than one or two.”

She glanced around. “Have him check to see if the cell phone is in that tarp, but if he was holding it when he was shot, he probably dropped it. I want you to help this guy clean up the mess here as best you can, but hightail it out of here if you even think you might possibly get caught.”

Sean nodded, the wind ruffling the few flaxen strands that refused to stay in his ponytail. “You think we’ll get Agent Gibbs on this case?” he muttered, glowering almost as much as she was. “It’ll raise flags when this guy doesn’t report for duty today.”

“One in five chance.” She sighed, her gut already knowing the answer. “It’s not like the NCIS office here in Boston is all that big.”

  
NCIS Special Agent Gibbs was notorious for having the determination of a bull and the instincts of a bloodhound. It might not show in Sean’s posture, but she knew he was as worried as she was, and she straightened her shoulders, as much for his sake as for her own. “We’ll get through this. I’ve got to call Da and report this, and notify Michael that he should be extra careful with his distribution for the next few weeks.”

Dropping a quick kiss on his lips, she pulled out her phone as she headed back to the car.

  
But the first phone call she made wasn’t to Patrick Doyle. Instead, she pulled a small, stone-age Nokia brick from her glove compartment, turned it on, and dialed the number she knew by heart.

  
“Hello?” The voice of the woman on the other end was crisp, as impersonal as it got without straying over the edge to impolite.

  
Kate knew she hadn’t woken her. Her sister always rose at the crack of dawn to run and do yoga, something she’d picked up in between that French boarding academy and medical school.

“Maura, I don’t think we’ll be able to meet for lunch today. Could we reschedule for next week?”

 

Because this whole thing would take ages to sort out, and she was supposed to be starting to make her rounds at this hour, collecting (and planting a little something in that new chain pharmacy that was threatening to drive Annie O’Neil’s little apothecary shop out of business), so that would now drag into the early afternoon, likely longer.

 

“Do I want to know why you might need to reschedule?” A pause, barely a flash, and then she answered her own question. “No, I can guess. And if I say no to rescheduling?”

“You act like I’d even think about forcing you. I’m asking. It feels like it’s been ages since I saw you.”

“With a good reason.”

“Maur…”

“Look, I don’t know why I even agreed in the first place. I can hardly sit across from you and enjoy escargots knowing you  _ killed _ someone this morning!”

 

“ _ I  _ did not kill anyone!”

“The fact that you have not distanced yourself from our father’s activities, and instead have followed in his footsteps, makes you just as culpable as the man who pulled the trigger.”

“At least I know enough not to bite the hand that fed me!” The reaction was practically a reflex, and she sighed. It was the same argument she was so fed up with, and yet they never seemed to tire of. ( _ “Really, Maura? A medical examiner? Da pays for your medical school and that’s what you do with it? You couldn’t have just become a regular doctor like Hope, or literally anything else?” _ )

 

“I was just trying to be polite, so you weren’t sitting on your own in the restaurant waiting for a no-show. I hope you have a good day.”

“Likely I won’t, since every body that comes into my morgue today will have me wondering if it’s the person my sister shot.”

“You haven’t seen a fraction of the bodies I’ve dealt with, and I doubt you’ll see this one either.” Her tone was bitter. “Love you, Maura.”

And she turned the phone off again.


	2. Chapter 2

Kate leaned on the doorbell, grimacing as she tried to hold her leg still, as Sean supported her with an arm around her waist.

Maura's eyes widened, the soft light from her living room spilling over her shoulder to glint off the blade buried in Kate's thigh and illuminate the bloodstains on her shirt, like headlights hitting a macabre stop sign. “Oh my god!”

“It's not all mine. Just my leg.”

Maura stepped back, gesturing for them to head down the hall. “Bathroom,” she hissed as she shut the door behind them, pulling a first-aid kit out of the cabinet in the foyer.

Kate put most of her weight on Sean, limping. At least the blood was still soaking into her pants and wouldn't drip on Maura's floor. One less thing to clean up later.

“You should have called an ambulance.” Her sister's tone was still--accusing, almost. “She needs professional medical attention.”

“You are a professional, aren't you? Got a degree and everything.” Sean had never really gotten along with Maura, more so now than ever. “Fix her.”

 

“I work with  _ dead _ people!”

Kate carefully lowered herself onto the toilet seat, with a grateful nod to Sean. The ever-fastidious doctor snapped on latex gloves.

“I'm sorry, Maura, but you were the closest. Just take care of the worst of it, please, and I can go to the clinic tomorrow for stitches and whatever.”

“You are  _ not _ going to wait that long.” Maura shook her head. “I'll stitch it up now. But I don't have any anesthetic.” That fact didn't seem to bother her, maybe because she knew Kate had had worse. Kate even wondered whether there might be a hint of suppressed glee there, well disguised. “At least you didn't remove the knife.”

“I do remember some of the things you've told me.”

“You apparently don't seem to have remembered that I'm not your paramedic, and I’ve made that clear on multiple occasions.”

Kate tensed, and inhaled as Maura slid the blade out evenly. It wasn’t as large as some she’d seen, but a good inch and a half of steel, blood-coated, emerged from her leg, leaving behind an angry gash.

 

“You could be a little more grateful!” From his position leaning on the door frame, Sean scowled, crossing his arms over his chest.

Kate closed her eyes. “You can get back to the cleanup now. I'll be fine.”

Maura glanced up from where she pressed gauze over the slit, tossing her caramel curls over her shoulder as she held out a hand. “Give me a knife. A clean one. I have a set of flannel pajamas in the lower right drawer in my bedroom--up the stairs, first door on the left. Bring them here before you go. I imagine you'll want to dispose of my sister's bloodstained clothes along with whatever else you need to ‘take care of’.”

“Good thinking. Do it, please, Sean.” She offered him a reassuring smile, softening her tone. “I'll be fine.”

 

Kate knew he was glowering again from behind the blond hair falling in his face, but she handed her own blade to Sean and gestured for him to set his into Maura's outstretched hand, and he did as he was told.

“His is clean. Mine’s not.”

Maura frowned, and still poured a significant amount of rubbing alcohol on the blade.

“You have him trained well,” she remarked, when Sean had left the room. “Will he become your under whenever you take over?”

“Maybe.” Kate kept her tone offhanded, setting her teeth against the dull throb in the leg. “I can't say I'd want to cede any authority, but that whole superior-inferior thing tends to put a damper on a relationship in the long run.”  
She unclipped her phone from her belt, pulled her wallet out of her back pocket, slipped her holster out from inside her waistband at the small of her back. Luckily nothing had gotten any blood on it.

  
“Please tell me the implications of that statement are not actually the case,” Maura groaned. Switching hands, she gripped the blade in one hand like a scalpel and wielded it with precision to slice the fabric off Kate's body.

“Can't, not if you want the truth.” Kate leaned back and closed her eyes. It was terribly uncomfortable, with the toilet tank digging into her back, but she was beginning to feel lightheaded, and she had to concentrate to undo her belt buckle.

  
“Really? MacConnor? I realize there are only approximately 90 adult males to every 100 adult females in this city, but surely even you can do better than him.”

“‘Even’ me? Gee, thanks.” Kate tried to move as little as possible as she twisted slowly out of her blouse and bra.

“When one takes into account your occupation and the sort of characters you associate with, the likelihood of you finding a suitable partner decreases drastically. But I do believe you fully capable of--”

“What are you, my mother?” She laughed, because the alternative was to cry and hit the ceiling, and she didn't have the energy for that right now. Leaving the bloodstained clothes lying her lap, she crossed her arms over her chest as she was seized by a sudden chill. It had been one of her favorite button-ups, too. “Sean’s a good guy, Maura. He cares about me.”

“Would he still care about you as much if you weren't the boss’ daughter?”

 

“I sure as hell don't care about you, even though you’re one of the boss’ daughters.” Sean’s voice was low, and Kate cracked one eye open and arched an eyebrow at him.

“Here are the pajamas you asked for.”

“Up.” Maura tapped the underside of Kate's thigh, just behind her knee, and she lifted herself so that the remains of her pants could be removed from under her.

Her sister folded them, carefully avoiding touching any blood, and rolled up the fabric so the outside of the bundle was relatively clean. “Take that out with you. Don't drop or drip anything on my floor. You'll pick her up when you're done, unless there is another car in the driveway, in which case I will drop her off by the Dirty Robber tomorrow morning. Understood?”

“Understood.” Taking the fabric bundle, Sean took one last glance at Kate. “It's your fault she was stabbed, you know.”

“Sean!”

But he was already halfway down the hall, and didn't turn around.

 

Maura gazed after him for a split second, then turned and carefully lifted the blood soaked gauze from her leg. “You're lucky. It doesn't look like it hit an artery.”

“Thank God.” Kate closed her eyes again, a wave of drowsiness overcoming her.

“What did he mean, it was my fault you were stabbed?” Her sister’s tone was subdued, and Kate jerked, just a little, as the cool sting of a saline solution flooded the wound. “What does this have to do with me?”

“People still try to get to Da through you. Just because you don't want anything to do with him doesn't mean they don't want anything to do with you.”

 

“That doesn't make it my fault.” More gauze was used to soak up the saline solution and dry the area around the wound.

“I never said it did. You don't have to try to defend yourself to me.” Sometimes, she wondered if Maura was still trying to convince herself.

“I'm not going to thank you.” The doctor’s voice was muted as she threaded the curved suture needle.

“I wasn't expecting you to. I didn't even want you to know.”

“I appreciate the thought.”

Kate hissed through her teeth and bit back a whimper as the metal slid through her flesh.


	3. Chapter 3

Kate stopped in the hallway as the voices reached her, Maura’s low murmur and two others--a male and a female. She retreated back to Maura’s room to put her things--her knife, and the knife Maura took out of her leg, her phone, her gun--on a shelf in Maura’s closet where no one should randomly run across them. She also needed to borrow a bra and to tie her hair back, still wet from the shower she had just taken. The water must have masked the sound of the doorbell.

She was hungry, and Maura had said she would need to eat after the amount of blood she’d lost. After swallowing a few mild painkillers from Maura’s medicine cabinet to help mask her limp, she made her way back out into the open living room/kitchen, supporting herself ever-so-slightly with a hand on the wall, trying to keep her weight off her right leg.

 

“I’m sorry, Maura didn’t say she was having company. I must have been in the shower when the doorbell rang.”

Maura’s eyes widened momentarily with panic, and Kate raised her eyebrows equally briefly at her, smiling. _Did you think I was going to skulk around like a fugitive? Really?_

She already knew Jane Rizzoli by sight, all lanky suppressed fury and long dark curls, the newbie vice detective who was quickly rising from “mild irritation” to “real problem,” an overachiever and workaholic like Maura. No wonder they seemed to be on the fast track to becoming best friends. From a professional point of view, she hated her. From a more personal one, she was glad her sister was finally connecting with someone for the first time in a long while.

“We didn’t ring the doorbell. Detective Rizzoli has a key.” Each word was pronounced with deliberation. She filed that interesting bit of information about the key away for later and examined the man, whom she couldn’t recall seeing before. From his fit build and the authoritative, alert way he held himself, law enforcement was a safe bet, even if he did look like he was nearing Da’s age. Salt-and-pepper hair, piercing blue eyes, and decency and caring hid behind wariness and ruthlessness in his gaze. She knew that type.

 

“I’m Kate.”

“Maura, you didn’t tell me you had a twin!” Jane sounded a little choked.

Kate broke away from the man’s gaze, and turned around with a laugh to look for the plates. Luckily Maura’s kitchen wasn’t that big, and had plenty of surfaces she could unobtrusively lean on, and she didn’t have to move around much. “I’m not her twin.”

It was the truth. Maura was three years older than she was, and if you wanted to be precise, they were only half-sisters. But almost everyone remarked on the resemblance, despite Kate’s dark auburn hair.

“That’s a little hard to believe.” His tone was offhanded, deliberately.

“The mathematical probability of someone unrelated having the exact same facial features is so minuscule as to be negligible, however, the prevalence of doppelgängers suggests that there’s some flaw in those calculations. It’s not anything I’ve researched extensively, but there’s a 63% chance that, out of a thousand photographs, someone will identify as least one of them as a given person--assuming the appropriate amount of ethnographic diversity is present.”  
Of course Maura had relevant factoids. Kate would have been surprised if she hadn’t.

 

“Yeah, I don’t really see the resemblance, but the RA was really weirded out when he came to visit us in our dorm room for the first time.” Kate opened the fridge and groaned. “Come on, Maura, don’t tell me you don’t even have the ingredients to make a sandwich!”

“There’s tofu, and lettuce, and tomatoes. I don’t have cheddar, but if you want cheese there’s Brie and Roquefort. I had the last of the Saint-Agur today with lunch.”

“No, I don’t want your moldy French cheeses. Is there bacon, you know, for a BLT or something?”

“You know I don’t usually eat bacon, Kate. Why would I keep it in my house? Brie does not contain any blue mold, and it tastes perfectly fine on a sandwich. The cheese and bread combined create a complete protein.”

 

“You never stop being a doctor.” It amused and irritated her and the same time.

“Would you prefer I neglect the Hippocratic Oath?” Maura’s tone had turned sharp, and Kate’s hackles bristled, but she took a deep breath.

“No,  I wouldn’t. You do good work, and I’m very appreciative, as I’m sure all good citizens ought to be.” Kate tamped down her sarcasm to mild, placating amusement, since other people were in the room, and she cleared her throat. “Are you guys going to put a movie on? Do I get a vote in what it is?”

She had seen the stack of files on the coffee table, just barely, most of them hidden from her view by the couch, but the trick was always to get other people thinking you were less observant, less prepared than you actually were.

 

“No, Detective Rizzoli and Agent Gibbs enlisted my assistance in going over my recent Jane and John Does, to see if they were connected to any of their cases.” Maura’s tone had returned to its usual even, polite professionalism.

Giving up, Kate pulled the Brie from the cheese drawer and sniffed it. It wasn’t blue, and didn’t smell awful, so it would do. “Wouldn’t you usually do that kind of thing at a police station?”

“Detective Crowe wouldn’t leave us alone.” Jane’s dislike of the man flooded her voice, making her characteristic rasp more pronounced.

Inwardly, Kate cursed. _Idiot. Seems like they’re everywhere nowadays._ She had never sympathized more with Scar than recently. Still, her tone was jovial. “Was he hitting on you or Agent Gibbs?”

“More like I was about to hit _him_ if we didn’t get out of there,” Jane grumbled. “Please tell me you at least have beer on hand, Maura.”

 

Maura cleared her throat. “Actually, yes. It’s not chilled, but there is a carton of beer beside the wine rack.”

Kate let out a low whistle, turning to grab a cutting board and a knife--perfectly sharpened, of course, though not as heavy-duty as her own blade.

“What?” Jane glanced at her from halfway between the couch and the wine rack.

“Maur must _really_ like you.”

There was a flash of something in Jane’s eyes, before she lifted a shoulder. “Why? What do you mean?”

“I _will_ start calling you Katie if you don’t finish your food and leave us in peace!”

Kate just grinned and began slicing a tomato.

 

Jane popped the top of the bottle on the edge of the counter and took a swig. “Nu-uh. You don’t get to just-- _imply_ something like that and then not say anything else.”

“Is it your favorite kind of beer? Maur’s considerate like that, when she wants to be.”

“ _What_ are you trying to say?” Jane crossed her arms, cocking one hip, and Kate popped a slice of tomato into her mouth.

“Well, I remember one time when Garrett--her boyfriend back then--specifically asked her to wear this little black dress of hers for an event at his parents’ place… and then she still didn’t.”

“I had far better-looking dresses. He didn’t tell me it was a black-and-white event!” When Kate glanced at Maura on the couch, her sister was ducking her head, her hair falling in her face.

Gibbs glanced up from Maura, and Kate found herself eye to eye with him again. He tilted his head slightly, and she wasn’t sure if it was him studying her or simply a flirtatious challenge.

Jane laughed. “That is definitely her. I can’t believe Maura didn’t tell me about you before!”

“ _Katie_.” Maura’s voice was slightly muffled. “You’re embarrassing me.”

“I never get to tease you.” Kate pouted on purpose, playfully, as she began to cut thin slices of the soft cheese. “But fine, I’ll stop.”

 

“Thank you. I am so sorry for the interruption, Agent Gibbs.”

“Nothing you need to apologize for, Doctor Isles. I appreciate you letting us work here when you have company over.”

When Kate glanced up from the cutting board, he was still studying her. “I’m guessing you don’t have any normal sandwich bread here, either, Maur? Never mind, I’d be surprised if you did.” She shot Jane a grin. “Think you can persuade her to start keeping normal food around the place?”

“Absolutely not! The only time Jane eats anything resembling a balanced diet is when she dines here.”

“Which is exactly why I eat at the Dirty Robber whenever I can before we come here!” It was good-natured.

Kate grinned as she put together her sandwich, and took the knife and cutting board to the sink to rinse them off.

 

Jane eyed her again. “So you two were college roommates? You went to Boston-Cambridge?”

She watched the water run off the flat surfaces, running her nails over the surface of the wooden board to get a bit of cheese off. “Yeah. Econ major, art minor. What about you?”

“I went into the police academy right out of high school. I always knew I wanted to be a cop.”

Kate nodded, drying off the board and knife and putting them away again.

“What about you? What do you do?”

“Nowadays, managing logistics. Makeup, if you’d believe it. Well, and shampoo, and skin care products. You know Claire’s Careful Cleanser?”

“Yeah, that’s the stuff Maura uses.”

 _She’s been in your personal bathroom, too, sis?_ Kate smirked to herself. “Yeah, that’s the most popular thing we make, but a lot of other stuff, too.”

 

The company and what they manufactured was real enough, but the local factory branch also provided an excellent cover for shipping other things of a processed, chemical nature. And for laundering the money that found its way back into their hands due to said other things.

 

Kate picked up her plate and made her way over to the couch. The painkillers had begun to kick in now, muting the throb in her leg, though it still complained sharply whenever she flexed it. She settled herself into an armchair opposite from Agent Gibbs. “So, can I help you guys out? An extra pair of eyes can’t hurt, can it? What are we looking for?”

Maura practically glared at her. “These are official police files. They’re not supposed to be seen by the public.”

“Right.” She crossed her ankles, and balanced her plate on her lap as she bit into her sandwich, making sure the crumbs fell onto the plate and not onto the furniture. It wasn’t actually too bad, this bread with the Brie and tomatoes, even if she’d never admit it.  Though Maura still looked miffed she wasn’t eating at the table, she didn’t comment, simply picking up a file from one of the multiple stacks on the glass coffee table.

“A Navy officer failed to report for duty four days ago.” Gibbs leaned forwards, looking at her directly, setting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his folded hands. “I’m _hoping_ he doesn’t turn up in any of these files, but we found what seems to have been a dumping ground in the harbor the day before yesterday.”

 

The surprise was genuine, and then she averted her face and swallowed. “Oh. Wow. I… I hope you find what you’re looking for? Or, I guess, I hope the guy you’re looking for isn’t there.”

She set her sandwich back down on her plate, and picked it up and stood. “Uh--I’m going to guess I won’t want to eat around this.”

“Probably not.” The barest hint of a smile flicked over the corners of Gibbs’ lips--maybe the most emotion she’d seen from him yet.

“Your study is upstairs? Same place as the last time I visited?”

“Yes. Please don’t get any crumbs on the books.”

Kate eyed her sister, for once completely earnest, even if her smile was indulgent. “You know I wouldn’t dare hurt your treasures.”

She wasn’t sure if that was exasperation or something like forgiveness on Maura’s face--maybe “patient longsuffering” was the best way to put it--but Kate offered her sister a genuine grin in response.

 

Then Maura’s phone went off. Kate froze for a moment, then forced herself to continue walking. Their voices still trickled into the hallway, Jane’s the loudest of the three. “Stabbing? That’s only a couple blocks from here. Please, Maura, let me come with you? You know I want to make it into homicide some day.”  
  
“I’m so sorry, Agent Gibbs. Feel free to stay here and continue working.”

“‘Preciate it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never really had a sibling, so I hope the banter isn't too far off.
> 
> Also, I vacillate between thinking "This is awesome; I love this AU" and "Oh my God, what the ever-loving fuck am I doing? I'm ruining this character and that character and she would never say that and damn I am so terrible." So... yeah. If anyone concurs with either statement (particularly the latter) let me know.


	4. Chapter 4

Sean, she wanted to call him, see how he was doing, if he was all right, if he was one of the “witnesses,” but there was nothing she could do but sit and wait for this whole thing to blow over. So Kate had simply pulled one of Maura’s psychology books off the shelves, and headed to the guest bedroom. Her sister would likely have something to say about not getting crumbs on the sheets, too, but she was a good guest and ate above the plate on the nightstand.

It didn’t take long before she fell asleep.

 

It didn’t seem to take long before she woke up, either, though, the throbbing in her leg prodding her awake. The clock on the bedside table said it was 3 AM--not an altogether unusual time for her to wake up, or be woken up, but she felt heavy, fuzzy. Her thigh would prevent her from sleeping any further, she knew, so water and more painkillers were in order. She'd have to talk to Michael and see if he had anything strong on offer, once she got home.

 

The meds were in Maura's medicine cabinet--though she had nothing stronger than Ibuprofen--and so Kate headed to the upstairs bathroom for them first, practically dry-swallowing with a little water from the faucet in her hand. Then she headed downstairs for a glass of water proper, hissing through her teeth as her muscle protested, and she took the stairs step by step.

 

She almost didn't notice the dark figure slumped in an armchair, until he shifted a little, angled his head slightly differently.

Leaning on the wall for support, she tried to stay silent, even though it would probably be a lost cause. She hadn't even started filling the glass before she felt his gaze on her.

“You don’t have to bother trying to be quiet.” His voice was still gravelly and thick with sleep, and she would never say the sound of it threaded down her chest and conjured a slight smile on her face.

 

“I thought I was being considerate. So shoot me.” She held the glass under the faucet, glancing behind herself.

“‘Preciate the thought.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, muttering something to himself a little more softly.

“Was that meant for me, those last few words?”

“Hrm?” His tone had sharpened, and she flipped the switch for the kitchen lights to illuminate his messy sleep-hair sticking up every which way and narrowed eyes.

“You said something else, and I didn’t quite catch it.” She _hated_ it when people mumbled. Her subordinates knew not to do that.

 

“I wasn’t intending to fall asleep.” He was grumbling, and the evidence that even the legendary Agent Gibbs wasn’t superhuman made her smirk.

“ _No_ , I just assumed you liked sleeping upright in strange people’s homes.” She took a gulp of her water, and then reached for another glass, on a whim. “You want something to drink, too?”

“What happened to your leg?”  
“What?” She should have guessed he would ask, really, but it still threw her. She filled another glass with tap water,to give herself a little time, and set it on the kitchen island towards him. “Oh, yeah. I pulled a muscle pretty badly.”

He made some noncommittal noise, but then she couldn’t force herself to be overly concerned with it. He wasn’t going to get a look at the wound, either way.

 

He took the glass and downed it, and she leaned back against the counter, and he pinned her with his gaze. (She only realized then, with a little embarrassment, that she wasn’t wearing a bra--because Maura’s had been a size too large and felt uncomfortable and she had been more than happy to take it off again. She folded one arm reflexively over her chest, to cover that fact, though she suspected the gesture may have just drawn attention to it.)

 

“Doctor Isles doesn’t actually seem to like having you around.”

That _stung_.

She knew it, it’s wasn’t news, but it still hurt like all hell, worse than her leg. And she knew it showed on her face.

“That doesn’t seem to be a surprise for you.”

Kate downed the rest of her water and flipped off the light switch, refilling the glass in the dark by touch. “We never really got along all that well. But she’s nice. She’s so. damn. _nice_ …” It was a good thing, in a way, that she wasn’t in Kate and Da’s world anymore. “She’ll help out just about anyone who needs it.”

It was closer to the truth than she would have liked, and why she had come here. Because no matter how much Maura hated her, she knew she couldn’t stand there and watch her bleed.

 

“And why do you need help?”

 _Fuck._ She had always been better at lying than Maura, but that didn’t mean it was her best skill. “I just needed a place to crash--I--I’d really rather not talk about it.” She ducked her head, softened her voice. “Just for tonight. I’ll be out of her hair again tomorrow.”

She could practically feel his gaze sharpening, then softening, and he took a step closer. “Are you in any kind of trouble, Kate?”

“No, no trouble. It’s personal, that’s all.”

His fingers twitched and he reached towards her, just a fraction, and then he switched his glass from one hand to the other. “Boyfriend?”

“Sure, let’s go with that.”

 

He exhaled, and she could tell he wasn’t exactly satisfied with the answer, but then she didn’t really give a damn about that. “You know where Doctor Isles keeps her coffee?”

Kate wanted to laugh, and only just kept herself to a breath of derision. “I can tell you _where_ she keeps it. But good luck working the coffee machine. Especially in a state where you need caffeine.”

The noise he made sounded a little like a groan. “I don’t like driving when I haven’t had any coffee.”

“It’s, what, a little after three in the morning? I don’t think anyone expects you to drive anywhere.”

“She didn’t exactly invite me to sleep here.” He ran a hand through his hair.

 

“Maura wouldn't mind if you just laid down on the couch.” It was a fact, even if Kate shouldn't want him to stay here, shouldn't want him around any longer than absolutely necessary. (There was also the guest bedroom, but that already had an occupant, and she was definitely not going to say anything that sounded like an invitation to sleep with her.) “Really, she'd probably be talking about how a lack of sleep is just as impairing to reaction time as alcohol, or something.” She couldn't help it if some of Maura's rambling had eventually stuck.

He grunted. She wasn’t sure if it was assent or dissent, and drained her water glass again.

 

The painkillers were starting to kick in, but she really needed some stronger ones. _No, although they can be helpful,  you don’t_ _need_ _them, especially you don’t need them… The human body is surprisingly resilient…_ Strange, it was always Maura’s voice in her thoughts, when it came to that.

 

“I’m guessing she isn’t back yet. Since she didn’t wake you up coming in.”

“Probably still helping to process the crime scene.”

She didn’t know if that was a bad or a good thing. Likely bad. _Fuck._

He set the glass in the sink--she moved to keep a certain amount of distance between them. He fished his keys out of his pants pocket. She fidgeted, and finally set her glass into the sink, too.

 

“I can tell her where you went. I assume she knows how to contact you?”

“Yeah, she does. But I'll contact her. We weren't done here.”

“Yeah, I think I got that part.”

He exhaled heavily, something that wasn’t quite a sigh but damn close. She still heard just a little--suppressed--amusement in his tone. “You always this much of a smartass?”

“Only when it suits me.” When you were used to speaking in vague code to spare possible eavesdroppers’ ears, used to analyzing every word for an underlying threat or a developing problem, so-called straight talk merited derision (no matter how much you enjoyed the breath of fresh air).

 

She really shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be lingering--and for once (sometimes it was a toss-up), she listened to her better judgement.

“Well, drive safe.” Kate took a step forwards, intending to brush past him to head back upstairs, but her leg punished her for the sudden movement and she sort of stumbled into his shoulder.

 

Gibbs offered an arm to catch herself on, and she laid a hand on his forearm, slowly straightening. “You all right?”

“I just--yeah, I’m fine. My leg’s just stiff.” She lifted her hand from him as soon as she felt stable enough, maybe a little too quickly, and had to support herself again on the wall. “I’ll be okay. But I should definitely go lie down again.”

“If you say so.” It was too dark to see him, but she could practically feel reserved, warm concern in his gaze, a caress she could never let herself get used to.

  
She straightened her back and walked evenly, slowly as she fled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god so much plotting is needed.  
> I have to think up the cases myself now... and make sure they make sense... and involve everyone... and make sense...  
> *headdesks*
> 
> Also, usually I love Kate/Gibbs conversations, but with this one I had to keep on going back and cutting and re-writing stuff. This Kate and Gibbs are hard to put together.  
> (Honestly, I intended for this to be a Kibbs fic but that's probably not how it'll end up, or not strictly anyways.)


	5. Chapter 5

Kate slept only fitfully, and was shaken awake to see Maura leaning over her, a hand on her shoulder. 

“What?” She tried not to be quite so irritable, really, but she hadn't had coffee yet and her leg hurt and she couldn't remember what dream she'd been wrenched out of, but it had left a slightly sick feeling in her stomach.

 

“Get up.” Maura's tone cut the air like a blade, and Kate grimaced instinctively, to avoid being sliced. “We're leaving.” Kate sat up, slowly, to find clothes being tossed at her face. “You have ten minutes.”

“My stuff--gun, wallet, phone, the knives--are in your closet. I figured that was the least likely place for anyone to stumble over them. I found an empty shoebox.” Maura stared, and paled, and then snapped her mouth shut and marched out.

 

She sighed as the door slammed behind her sister, and struggled into clothes that were probably the least fancy Maura owned, and still felt too expensive to be touching her skin. At least she had given her flats to wear, though the toes felt a little narrow for her feet, and Kate took a moment to glance in the mirror and run her fingers through her hair to get out the worst of the bed head.

 

Maura was waiting outside the door, gripping her things with latex-covered hands. “You didn’t even put them in a plastic bag. I might have to throw out the shoebox.” Her tone was petulant.

“Nobody is going to look through your closet and test your shoeboxes for DNA or whatever, Maura.” Kate  slid them all back into place--though Maura’s pants obviously hadn’t been bought with an in-waistband holster in mind, and even when she loosened the belt it was still a tight fit. Her sister descended the stairs with her, not offering help but still there in case she stumbled.   
  


Maura was still wearing the clothes from yesterday, a sleek, short blue dress and matching heels, her hair pulled back neatly, her makeup still intact, save for slightly smudged eyeliner. She could head into work now and most people would likely be none the wiser.

It was a good day if Kate took the extra time to put on eyeliner and mascara in the morning at all.

 

“Where do you live?” Maura asked quietly, when the quiet purr of the car engine would help to obscure their words.

“I won't tell you, Maura. You can't tell anyone what you don't know. It's why you don't have my phone number, either.”

“I think that, after last night, when I didn't simply hand you over to the two police officers in my living room as the culprit in a fatal stabbing and who knows what other crimes, I've earned a little trust.” Maura inclined her head, regarding her pointedly.

 

_ Trust. _ Sure, Kate trusted her. Up to a point. “Why do you want it? You don't want anything to do with us. Hell, you don't even like talking to me.”

“You  _ killed _ a man. And in a few hours,  _ I _ will have to ask his wife to identify the body, and watch her realize that her daughter is going to grow up without a father.” Maura's voice was trembling now, with a fury that went from hot to cold and back in a moment.

“ _ He _ sure didn't give a damn about  _ your _ life, or  _ your _ family, or even about how it might affect his own wife and daughter. So don't you  _ dare _ make this all my fault, or pretend I didn't do a good thing.” She stared at Maura, for several long moments, and then looked out the window. “My car is by Sean's place, anyways. We left there together.”

 

“You had better call someone to get it  _ away _ from Sean's place, then, because he was picked up a block away from the scene carrying what they suspect to be the murder weapon.”

“ _ What _ !?”  _ God-fucking-dammit. _ No, there were no words strong enough. Kate took a deep breath, squaring her jaw and gritting her teeth. “You don't think that would have been necessary information to give me a little earlier?”

“I didn’t know you left anything incriminating near him.”

“Gee, I literally  _ just _ told you I was seeing him. And telling me he was arrested was  _ not _ the first thing out of your mouth this morning?” Maura didn't always get sarcasm, but she did get anger and frustration (listing the facial muscles contracting under her breath).

 

“I wasn't intending to tell you at all,” Maura muttered, and averted her face. “You shouldn't even really be driving with your leg, so tell me where I should take you.”

“What, are you volunteering to be my personal chauffeur for the next few weeks? My car's not right in front of his house, so it should be fine. Just--take me there, please?” She gave the address.

 

Maura sighed, and set her turn signal, and drove in silence. She ducked her head a little when they drove past the CSRU van, and didn't even get out of the car when they pulled up beside Kate's silver sedan.

Kate didn't thank her as she fished her keys out, unlocked her car, and slid inside.

 

It wasn't exactly easy to drive with her right thigh feeling like it had been ripped in half--it was surprising which muscles you used without realizing it, and every time she switched from brake to gas pain shot up through her hip. She went slowly, taking back roads and creeping through housing areas, and it took almost twice the usual time. Staggering in to her little house to. collapse on the couch, Kate took her phone off her belt.

 

He picked up on the first ring. “‘Lo?”

“Mike? Hey, yeah, you have any good pharmaceuticals on tap?”

His voice took on a warning tone. “Katie, why’re you asking?”

She bent down to peel off Maura’s shoes. “You don't get to call me Katie anymore, Michael.”

“I saw you in diapers, diapers, girlie. I'll call you anything I damn well please.”

“I got stabbed last night, and my sister has a body in the morgue. You can shut up about the diapers now. Do you have painkillers or not?” she huffed, beginning to unbutton Maura’s slacks with one hand. She’d changed the bandage before going to sleep last night, but she should probably switch it out again.  Besides, Maura would never forgive her if she got blood on her clothes.

 

“Y’got ‘im, then?” He was unmistakably proud.

“Damn right I did.” She stood, easing the pants down enough so she could sit again, and and then pulled them off the rest of the way. “But he tore my thigh up pretty damn well. I took some Ibuprofen but it’s not really helping.”

“You better be resting. And if you’re resting, you can suck it up and take it and sleep a lot.”

 

“Can't sleep well when it feels like hell has taken up residence in your leg.” Of course, that might've also been because she  _ hadn't _ really been resting it so far, but he didn't need to know that. She laid Maura's slacks on the couch beside her.

“Kate.” His tone sobered. “I'm not giving you drugs.”

“I'm not asking for  _ drugs _ , I'm asking about _ painkillers _ . Not coke.” She hadn't really meant to say it, but now they both paused.

“Still, Katie.”

“It doesn't have to be anythin too strong. Just to dull it. Even I'm not stupid enough to be running around on this leg, but there are still some things I'll have to do, and I'd prefer not to call attention to myself.” She held the phone between her head and shoulder, and started opening the blouse.

“Get that boyfriend of yours to help you. God knows you're MacConnor’s sun and stars already.”

 

“What?” It wasn't like that. It wasn't supposed to be like that.

He liked her, she liked him, they got along well and were sexually compatible, and it meant they didn't have to worry about any significant others getting wind of their actual jobs, or secrets blowing up, or being ratted out. It was convenient, practical. That was what made a relationship last. There were no feelings involved--hell, they'd promised one another, right at the beginning, not to wait if one of them went to prison or had to disappear.

 

“I know you're sleeping with him. Don't tell me y’ don’t see how he looks at you.”

“No, I really don't. We're not like that. We're not--in love.” She loved him, but she had never been  _ in love _ \--giddy, stupid, obsessed. Caitlin Todd had never been any of those things.

“He damn sure is in love with you.”

 

“He likes being fucked. There's a difference.”

“Yeah, but he doesn't look at you like a guy looks at a hooker.”

It was a little strange, talking about this with a man who was practically an uncle to her. “He'd better not. I am still his boss.”

Michael laughed.

“Anyways, he can't.” She lowered her voice, lifting the phone from her shoulder and shrugging out of Maura's blouse. “He was arrested last night. Didn't get away from the cleanup scene fast enough. They'll probably charge him.”

It had happened before, was bound to happen again, but this time it had been under the worst possible set of circumstances, and she took a deep breath, closing her eyes.

 

“Get the guy a lawyer. No way they can charge him just for bein’ somewhere.”

“He had my knife on him. The murder weapon.” She should have just given hers to Maura to use. Her stupid sister and her stupid insistence on making sure everything was ultra-clean.

“Owh. That's a different story.” He was quiet. “Still get him a lawyer. Whaddya need, then, Katie?”

“Food, painkillers. Sterile pads and gauze. A pair or two of cheap sweatpants, a size too big. A punching bag for when I go stir-crazy.”

“You don't have one already?”

She laughed. “Well, I'll wear mine out and need a new one.”

“I'll bring the stuff by in an hour.”

“Thanks, Mike.”

 

She hung up, and divested herself of the rest of Maura's clothes, and got her own from her bedroom--making a detour by her own medicince cabinet. She could just stick out the pain, but she didn't see the necessity of it. Then she told one of their lawyers to get his ass down to the police station, and then took a deep breath and called her Da.

 

“Maura's safe, for now.”

His voice was gravelly, dark. “They're not gonna stop. Not until we get them all first. They hate me.”

“I know, Da. I killed the guy, but Sean didn't have time to clean everything up. He got picked up with my knife on him. I don't know about Ryan or the rest of the team. O’Rourke’s man stabbed me in the thigh, so I'm out of the field for a while. Nothing too serious, though.”

He grunted. It wasn't a pleased noise. “All right. Keep me updated. Keep an eye on your sister.”

She swallowed a sigh. “You know I will.”

“Good. Love you, Kate.” And he hung up again.

  
She resisted the urge to hurl her phone against the wall, or cry, or both, and set up an informal protection detail on the assistant medical examiner instead. She did have a punching bag, though, and her next sketch was of a curly-haired angel, halo askew, with a face resembling her own, sitting in the dirt with mud on her white, white glowing wings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many plots to figure out. And history. And oh dear god the issues and the angst. XD


	6. Chapter 6

Her cell phone rang, and Kate leaned over the arm of the couch to pick it up off the end table. The past few days had been tolerable, but it was slowly getting to the point where she needed something to do besides read and sketch and watch movies, and she was grateful for the distraction.

 

It was the number for _Liam's_ , the pub they used as a meeting and contact point. Strange, she'd told everyone she’d be out for a few weeks. Still, she picked up. “Hello?”

“Kate.” Liam's voice, scratchy from years of whiskey and cigars, intoned in her ear, with only barely masked distaste. “Miss Maura’s here, insists on talkin’ t’you.”

 _You idiot, Maura._ “Take her back, now, and put her on.”

“Yes ‘m.”

 

She waited until the phone was picked up again, until she heard the quiet whisper of a breath over the line, and then she said, soft fury in her voice, “What the hell were you thinking?”

Maura let out a little stuttered sound of surprise at the attack. After a deep breath and a moment’s pause, she replied, in her even, professional tone, “I thought I needed to speak to my ‘college roommate,’ and this was the only way I knew to go about it. Either this or ask Frost to run your plates through the DMV database to get an address, but I assumed you would like that even less.”

 

Kate leaned against the back of the couch, blowing out a breath as she laid a hand over her eyes. “All right, talk.”

“Jane has been insistent that we invite you for drinks with us. She's been asking questions, period, and I have no idea how to answer them.”

“ _This_ is what you went to all this trouble for?” She wanted to smack some sense into her sister.

“I can't lie, Kate. And what if I say you live in Philadelphia, and then they see you here during one of their investigations? You staying at my house, wearing my clothes, implies a degree of familiarity that we no longer have.” Maura's voice was rising slightly in pitch, her agitation becoming more palpable in the tremble in her voice.

 

Right. For Maura's calm, nicely-ordered world, this was a catastrophe. “Well, we've fallen out of touch. It's not a lie. I told Agent Gibbs you were just helping me out for a night, that I needed a place to stay because of personal issues.”

“Why did you tell him that? And when?” Maura was obviously trying to keep her composure, and actually doing all right, for the moment, though Kate could hear the tension in every breath she took.

“He fell asleep in your living room. I woke him when I went to get a glass of water. He asked.”

 

“We don’t have the sort of relationship, Kate.”

She wanted to--she didn't know what she wanted to do. “Don't we, Maura? I go to you when I need medical help and a safe place to sleep. And you're coming to me now.” She softened her voice a little. “You can always come to me.”

 

“I won't need to come to you. I have Jane.” There was obstinance, and a tremble of uncertainty, of sure hope.

Kate tamped down irritation, and went for direct. “What do you need from me, Maura?”

“We need to figure out our story. I need some way to contact you that does not involve entering a mob hangout. I hope you realize just how _stupid_ your little stunt the other night was. You have introduced multiple additional layers of complexity into _both_ our lives.”

 

She did not need to hear a lecture. “It doesn't have to be complex. I'm an old friend who came for a night and disappeared again. I didn't leave any contact information. You don't know what I'm doing right now.”

“It makes no sense for me to have welcomed you into my home under those circumstances.”

“And yet you did it anyways.”

“Are you--criticizing me?” Maura sounded so deeply offended.

 

“Just pointing out a fact.” She sighed. “Look, Maura, what do you want me to do? We can sit and talk and figure out a story, but the best story is the truth--I showed up out of the blue and you have no idea what I'm doing right now or any relevant contact info. Nothing complicated for you to remember, nothing incriminating.”

Her sister's voice was small. “But I already pretended that I did know, that I could contact you. I told Jane I'd ask if you wanted to have drinks with us tomorrow evening.”

“Right.” Kate took a deep breath. “What, exactly, did you tell her about me?”

“You're from Indiana, and you moved back there after college. You've only recently come back to the Boston area, so we're reconnecting. You mentioned working at the factory, I believe? In shipping and logistics? And that I thought you were in a relationship with someone.”

 

“Jane asked about me being in a relationship?” Was she a lesbian? Kate knew--was pretty sure--Maura wasn't.

“No, Agent Gibbs seemed interested in the information.”

She tilted her head back, to rest fully on the couch cushion. “Okay. I can work with that. And I assume it would look weird if I turned down this invitation for drinks? Based on the story you've concocted so far? “

“At least a little, yes. At least, if you repeatedly refused. And Jane doesn't give up easily.”

 _You're lucky I've got nothing else on my plate right now._ “What about my leg? I'm mostly using crutches right now. How do you intend to explain that?”

“Sprained ankle. I can show you how to tie an ace bandage, and give you a support splint.” Not ideal, considering she'd already given a story about a pulled muscle, but multiple injuries one after another happened. She exercised enough, and it showed enough, for that to be believable.

“Agent Gibbs already noticed that you don't really like me. We'll just build on that, to show that we're okay as acquaintances but we're not cut out for any kind of long-term, deep friendship.”

 

Maura exhaled. “All right.”

“You okay?”

“Of course I'm not okay.” There was that self-righteous offense again.

“Is there anything else I can do to help?” She was trying to be patient, really she was.

“No.”

“Where tomorrow night?”

Maura exhaled. “The bar is called the Dirty Robber. It’s near the precinct. It's where most of the officers meet for drinks.”

“Lovely.” She was sure Maura couldn't help but catch that bit of sarcasm. “And when?”

“Barring any further cases or complications, eight PM.”

“Call me if something does come up.” And she took a deep breath and gave Maura the number for her burner phone. She'd just have to start checking the voicemail frequently, even if she still didn't dare leave it turned on for GPS tracking.

 

“Thank you.” Maura's voice was quiet.

“Welcome. I'll see you tomorrow. I'll call during lunch to iron out any little details if anything occurs to me between now and then.” It was starting to feel like a normal op, almost like when they'd staged a beating to help insert Matthew into the O’Rourke gang.

“A-all right.” Was it just now really hitting Maura, what they were doing?

“Love you, Maur.”

She ended the call, not expecting any kind of response in kind. Well, Da would be happy. She could hardly be getting closer to Maura now if she tried.

 

With a sigh, she carefully pried the SIM chip out of her old Nokia brick and slid it into the second slot in her smartphone. Before she turned the “business” SIM off, though, a text came through.

_Lawyer didn’t think they could get him off, in possession of the murder weapon and all. Says he agreed to a plea bargain. Arrangements are being made for him on the inside. Thought you should know._

She curled her fingers around her phone, pressing her skin to the plastic casing, clenching her jaw when that wasn’t enough. She wasn’t in love with Sean, really, but she did love him. He’d been at her side ever since she could remember, and now he was taking the fall for her. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t do anything more, that she would’ve done the same if their positions had been reversed. It still hurt.

 

She took a deep breath, and composed a quick reply.

_Fwd to him from me: “I’ll keep our promise. Look me up afterwards. I expect good behavior. ;)”_

The reply was surprisingly quick: _Him: “I want you to keep it. Promise I’ll be a model citizen. I love you.”_

  
Kate bowed her head and switched her usual number off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I love putting Kate on crutches. XD  
> Maybe because it's a bit less debilitating than having an injured arm?  
> I should probably switch things up a bit, though.
> 
> Also this premise feels ridiculous but I really needed a reason for people to be tossed together again that wasn't just coincidence.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter than usual.  
> I was looking forward to writing this, but it took a while to finish, mainly because there were so many characters and introductions and little conversations to fit in, and I've always been terrible at social interactions myself, especially in larger groups.

Kate took a deep breath as she switched both her crutches to one arm, glancing around the twilight-shrouded street in front of the bar. It was a habit when she was entering a new place, when she knew she would be in a vulnerable position. This really wasn’t far from the precinct, and the street looked fairly quiet, aside from a group of three heading towards her. Dark-haired woman, younger guy, older man, she noted as she pulled the door open and leaned against it for a moment.

 _Fuck._ She knew the older one, and he obviously recognized her as the group approached. Kate wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or worried that this wasn’t too intimate of a gathering--more people to take the spotlight off of her, and more people to focus on her, to spot slip-ups, more people she would be lying to and could run into later.

 

“Agent Gibbs.” She inhaled sharply, dipping her head in a greeting to let her hair, out of its usual ponytail, fall into her face, and tapping one of her crutches on the ground.

“Who is this, boss?” the other guy with Agent Gibbs asked. Gibbs didn't answer, and neither did she, which caused a little more interest to flicker in the eyes of Gibbs’ companions.

 

“Didn’t think they gave people crutches for pulled muscles.” Agent Gibbs mustered her, when she looked back up, and his two companions were eyeing her with obvious interest.

“I sprained my ankle yesterday.” Her smile was sheepish.

Gibbs stepped a little closer, deliberately invading her space and standing in the doorway, and she tossed her hair back and stood a little straighter. “Thought people with pulled muscles were supposed to rest ‘em.”

“I’ve never been ‘people.’” Kate arched an eyebrow at him, smirking slightly. She couldn’t help it. She’d always given as good as she got; it was practically second nature by now.

 

“Gibbs.” The black-haired woman, about Kate’s age now that she looked closer, dark makeup and the chains and studs on her black cargo pants marking her as goth-emo-whatever, laid a hand on Gibbs’ shoulder to get his attention. “You’re kinda blocking the doorway.” She pointed to a young couple who were waiting just inside the pub to exit.

Kate pressed herself against the door to make more room, and Gibbs shifted to let them pass. Then he laid a hand on the door, just beside her head, to push it open a little wider, and tilted his own head in a gesture for her to enter the pub.

 

The interior was cozy, all dark wood and a little colored glass in the windows, and surprisingly unpretentious for Maura’s standards. It wasn’t hard to spot her sister--caramel locks and a tense posture, watching the door with her hands folded over the best dress in the entire locale.  
Jane was sitting in the booth next to her, elbow on the table and a beer in one hand, fingers of the other curled gently over Maura's upper arm and shoulder.

 

On the opposite side of the booth sat a younger Hispanic guy, head shaved, another cop by the look about him, whose gaze was glued to Jane. A table had been pushed onto the end of the booth’s table, to extend the surface, and extra chairs had been collected, too.

“Let me guess, Jane invited you?” She glanced behind herself to Gibbs and crew (as she had begun to call them in her head).

“Did Doctor Isles invite you?” Gibbs countered, sauntering over to slide into the chair at the end of the table.

 

Maura stood as she saw the group, worrying one of her rings on her finger. Da’s habit, too. “Hi, Kate. I'm glad you could still come.” Her smile was obviously faked, and Kate cringed internally. Maura's acting skills had taken a serious nosedive since the last time she had seen them on display, and the room was full of _detectives_ , for God’s sake. Whose idiotic idea was this again?

“Hey!” Jane nodded a greeting. “What happened to your leg?”

She gave the same sheepish smile she had at the door. “I sprained my ankle jogging the day before last. The doctor said to take it easy for a couple of weeks.” Setting her crutches against the table, she slid into the freestanding chair between Maura and Gibbs.

 

“You're Maura's sister?” The goth offered a hand. “I'm Abby.”

“Kate. Nice to meet you. Um, but I'm not her sister. Weird, I know. Throws everyone.” She flashed a slight, disarming grin.

“Too bad. Drinks with gorgeous twins? I’d be completely down for that. Not that I’m too disappointed.” A cocky little smirk, a tilt of his head as he reached out a hand. “Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, at your service.” It was the grin of a guy who was attractive and he knew it, who saw her as a hot piece of ass and didn’t care to look much beyond that, the sort of grin that said _Wanna come home with me tonight?_

She rolled her eyes, very deliberately not taking his hand. “Won’t be needing any _services_ , DiNozzo.”

The Hispanic cop smirked before standing a little to offer his hand across the table. “Detective Rafael Martinez. Rizzoli’s partner.” He tilted his head towards Jane. “Pleasure.”

Kate did take his hand, with a small smile. “Nice to meet you.” She cleared her throat as he sat down again. “I wasn’t expecting to meet so many people this evening.”

 

“Well, Martinez just tagged along.” Jane must have nudged his foot under the table, from the way he glanced at her. Jane grinned. “But I mean, it’s just drinks, I figured, why not?”

“Hey, he had to make sure I didn’t tempt away his girl.” Jokingly running a hand through his gelled-up hair, DiNozzo seemed to have recovered from her put-down.

“I am _not_ his girl!” Jane set her beer down and was now glaring at the two men across the table from her. “Martinez! Did you--”

“I didn’t say anything!” Martinez held up his hands. “Promise.”

 

Maura was fidgeting in the seat next to Kate--well, what passed as fidgeting for Maura, anyways. Making miniscule corrections to her impeccable posture, and twisting the ring on her finger, hands folded in her lap. Maura’s gaze darted from Jane to Martinez and back, her forehead wrinkling just barely, and Kate expected her to say something, but she didn’t. Kate debated making some comforting gesture, like laying a hand on her forearm, but she didn’t.

 

“So, how do you and Maura know each other?”

Kate turned towards Abby, and then it went into a question-and-answer session covering most of what Kate had rehearsed with Maura--college roommates, Kate had recently moved back to Boston, working in logistics, sketched and jogged in her free time. When Abby didn’t seem suspicious, Maura slowly began to relax and join in the conversation at the other end of the table.

Gibbs was another story; whenever she glanced at him, she found his eyes on her. So when the waitress brought them their drinks and Abby was distracted by discussion of some murder case DiNozzo had brought up that involved BDSM and some very odd cyberspace activities, Kate arched an eyebrow at him. “Am I that interesting?”

“I’ve already spent at least a dozen hours with everyone else at the table.” He took a sip of his bourbon, blue gaze probing her.

“I’m boring, really. You’ve already heard most of what there is to tell.”

He tilted his head, smirking. “Now why don’t I believe that?”

She leaned back in her chair. “It doesn’t matter what you believe.”

“Then why do you insist on telling me?” He leaned back as well, resting his fingers on his drink resting on the table.

 

Kate glanced away, to find Abby watching them with interest, her chin propped up on both fists.

She took a sip of her drink, and cleared her throat. “So you’re a forensic scientist?”

“Yep.” Abby popped the “p.”

“How’d you get into it?” It was a distraction, though Kate hated the feeling that Gibbs had won this round.

“The field? Went to college for it.” It could have been answer from Maura or Colin, who tended to take things as literally as possible. Kate wanted to laugh, but she didn’t.

“No, I mean, what interested you in the job in the first place?”

The response had something to do with a lot near where she was growing up where the cars from crashes were dumped. It wasn’t like she wasn’t listening--but Kate was monitoring the conversation at the other end of the table with half an ear, too, and she just couldn’t devote her entire attention to the goth, even if she might have otherwise liked to.

Abby was interesting. Bubbly, sweet, methodical like Maura--Kate knew the scientist mindset even if she didn’t share it--open, an interesting study in contrasts. Unlike half the people at the table, she wasn’t a major threat, which in and of itself made Kate a little more eager to talk to the girl. Was she already on her second glass of  some caffeinated, sugary soda?

 

“And you?”  
  
Kate registered that Abby was looking at her expectantly just before the pause grew too long. “How I got into logistics and distribution? I needed a job.” She lifted one shoulder, and took a sip of her drink to buy herself a split second. “It’s not something that needs a specific degree, just that you’re good with math and systems and moving parts. And can think on your feet when issues come up.”

“You like a job where you have to think on your feet? Something with a little adrenaline in it?”

Kate glanced at Gibbs, slightly surprised he had decided to finally take part in the conversation. “I don’t know if you’d call it adrenaline so much as stress. But I _am_ kind of an adrenaline junkie. I love roller coasters.” With a quick glance at her sister, she added, “I used to try to get Maura to go on them with me, but I gave up on that pretty quickly.”

 

She’d dragged Maura on the biggest roller coasters in the park during her sister’s first visit home from her French boarding school, when Kate had just gotten tall enough to go on all of them. Maura had thoroughly questioned the operators about the safety measures in place and the accident rate, and hadn’t screamed, either from fear or excitement, and complained about the hard plastic seats wrinkling the silk skirt Mrs. Isles had given her. Finally, when she wanted to sit out the rest of the coasters, Kate had given up. When she had returned hours later, Maura had found herself a secluded corner, a smile on her face, her nose buried in the medical text she’d brought. Kate had fought with her sister on the ride home about what the point of going in the first place was (as well as you could fight with obtuse, logical Maura, until she was perplexed and hurt and in tears and you felt like the villain in the end).

 

“Dr. Isles doesn’t strike me as the type to enjoy roller coasters all that much.” Gibbs took another sip of his bourbon.

“No, she’s not.” Kate shook her head, and then a snippet of Jane’s voice caught her attention.

“We got a tip that O’Rourke’s gang and the Doyles were starting to have some issues. Possibly a drug-related turf war. Korsak came around and asked us to keep an eye on things, see if our guys inside overheard anything.”

“We don’t run across drug rings too often. Usually it’s tech or money or military secrets. The occasional terrorist--the guys down in DC see a lot more of those. But we’ll keep an eye out.” DiNozzo winked.

“There’s a jukebox here. Um, in the corner. It’s a little hidden from view.” Maura twisted in the booth to point, and Kate kept herself from glowering at the intentional change of subject. “But they have some excellent songs and the bar employees will make a space if people want to dance.”

 

“Ooh, yes! Gibbs! Come and dance with me!” Abby was already out of her seat.

“Abby…” Gibbs tilted his head, arching an eyebrow at her. “One song.”

“I’ll dance with you, Abs.” DiNozzo was standing up, grinning.

“Gibbs needs to practice, or else he’ll rust up. Like the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz.”

“I do not _rust_.” He looked practically perturbed now, but Abby just grinned and held out a hand.

“Prove it.”

 

“Jane?” Martinez was eyeing her with a slight smile, and she hesitated a moment before standing.

“Sure, why not?” Jane lifted one shoulder and drained what was left of her bottle. Kate shifted her chair and Maura slid out of the booth to let Jane get out and join the other three near the jukebox on the other side of the bar.

DiNozzo ran a hand through his hair, eyeing Maura and Kate with a slightly sheepish grin that somehow managed to be cocky at the same time. “What's a guy to do with two gorgeous women? I still can't believe you're not twins.”

 

Kate exhaled. “Smooth, but it gets kind of old, all the twins lines.”

He smirked self-deprecatingly. “I say what I'm thinking.”

“Look, go dance with Maura if you want to.” She shot her sister a look, staving off the anxious, wide-eyed expression she knew would cross Maura’s face at the prospect of leaving the bad little sister unsupervised. “I'm fine here, really. Actually I’m getting a little tired. So go.” Really, she would be happy to have a break from pretending for two seconds. And Maura should be able to enjoy herself a little bit.

 

“You’re sure?” “Are you sure, Kate?” It was a chorus from them both, and she rolled her eyes.

“ _Please._ ” Kate gestured to the dance floor, where a few others had joined the two couples from their table already.

“Doctor Isles?” DiNozzo was holding out a hand.

Maura tilted her head graciously, and set her hand in his--though her smile and posture were still tense--and allowed herself to be led to the floor.

Kate sighed, and turned her chair to watch them, and leaned back. Her first impulse was to cross one knee over the other, but she knew that would just aggravate her thigh, so she didn’t.

 

DiNozzo was a little clumsy, in a cute way, but it was obvious he’d had some instruction in ballroom dancing at some point. Maura paused to give him a few pointers, and perfected his posture, and it seemed to be coming back to him as he led her a little hesitantly through the steps.

Martinez was worse. He danced instinctively, improvising, and it was nothing terrible, but nothing too great to look at. Jane was much the same, and so they ended up stepping on each others’ toes and bumping into other people pretty often. Jane punched his arm, then--none-too-lightly, it seemed--and he laughed and rolled his eyes at her. They weren’t much different from most of the people who were standing up as the waitresses dragged tables and chairs out of the way.

Gibbs seemed to prefer leading Abby in long twirls and elaborate steps, while he himself barely moved at all, until she lightly swatted his chest with the back of her hand and said something Kate couldn’t hear. He glared at Abby, without heat, and then Kate was forced to admit he knew what he was doing on the dance floor, even if he didn’t seem to enjoy it.

Kate closed her eyes, and debated swallowing another painkiller as the song switched to something a little more modern. The sound of heels and chair scraping on the floor prevented her from reaching for her purse.

 

“Do you want to go home, Kate?” Maura’s voice was soft. “No one will mind.”

Kate blinked, and narrowed her eyes slightly when she found Gibbs in the chair in front of her, bourbon in hand and eyes on her. Again. “I’m all right.”

“Are you sure?” There was a little more of an edge to her sister’s question this time, and Kate sighed as she twisted to look at Maura.

“I’m more than happy to go home, if that’s what you want. Me coming here wasn’t exactly my idea.”

She wanted to slap Maura for that nervous, telling glance at Gibbs. “No, I--you’re welcome to stay.”

“All right, then.” Her own tone was testy now, too, and she consciously softened it. “You see that guy at the table in the corner? He’s been looking over here every few seconds since you came over, and I’m sure he’d love it if you asked him to dance.” She nodded towards the far end of the room, and was happy that the aforementioned man just so happened to be glancing their way at the moment.

 

Maura’s brow wrinkled, and she worried at her ring again.

“Go, Maur. You’ve never been shy about that kind of thing.” And with enormous relief, Kate leaned her elbows on the table and slumped her head when Maura slowly crossed the room towards the guy.

“He wasn’t looking at her.” Gibbs’ voice was low, but it cut through the cacophony that hovered in the air inside the bar.

“I know.”

“Was there some private conversation you wanted to have with me?” His tone was amused.

She bit back the urge to groan. “No, I just didn’t want to have a conversation with Maura.”

“You didn't want to talk with your friend?”

She hated this position, and she didn't look at him, setting her forehead in her palms. “I know the conversation she wants to have, and neither of us want to have it here, in a public place, in front of people we semi-know. And with the proverbial elephant there, it's just awkward.”

 

She knew he watching her, scrutinizing her. This whole thing was like dangling a sirloin steak in front of a wolf and expecting him not to sit up, sniff, lick his chops and glue his eyes on that meal, waiting for the moment when your grip slipped.

“This have anything to do with the reason why you slept at Dr. Isles’ house the other night?”

She straightened, brushed her hair back behind her ears. “You could say that.” She was keeping it vague, and she could only hope he would make his own assumptions.

“Was it an accident, the injury?”

She wondered if he was being vague on purpose as well, or if she moved in some way that betrayed that it wasn’t her ankle that was damaged. She had been careful, she thought… “Yes, it was an accident.”

“Boyfriend had nothing to do with it, then? He’s not giving you any trouble?”

“ _God_ , no. Nothing--like that.” If anything, it was the reverse, but that was not anything she was about to blurt out. She steepled her fingers in front of her lips, and glanced at him.

His eyes were slightly narrowed. "But you didn't want to bring him with you tonight?"

"I didn't think it was an open invitation."

"It's just drinks. Everyone's paying for themselves." He lifted one shoulder.

"He's not around anymore." It wasn't the way she wanted to come to terms with it, but it was probably best to get it over with, like ripping off a band-aid, and there was none of the agitation she really ought to feel.

"Should I express my condolences?"

"I don't know. Should you?" Kate tilted her head, arching her eyebrows.

She couldn't quite read his expression, and then he abruptly changed the subject.

“So you're an artist?”

 

“Not really. Not like Mrs. Isles.”

Gibbs’ eyebrows shot up, so she clarified. “Maura’s...” She wasn’t sure what to call her, what Maura might have called her. “Maura's mother.” That was what was on paper, last she knew. Officially, the adoption hadn’t been rescinded. Patrick Doyle was hardly going to give his children his name and put a target on their backs, though Colin had insisted.

“Oh?” The mystified look stayed firmly planted on his face.

“She does installation art. Last I heard she’d done some hanging mass of water bottles…” She lifted one shoulder, shaking her head, mirroring his skeptical expression. “I don’t get it either. I sketch, and that’s about it. I can do a little with pastels or oil paints, but I haven’t done any of that in years.”

 

“The community centers are always looking for people to help out with art classes. If y’get bored the next couple of weeks.” He gestured towards her leg with his still half-full glass.

She tilted her head. “You involved in one of said community centers?”  
He nodded. “There’s one a few blocks away from my house. Can’t do anything regularly, but I help out with some of the sports when I’ve got a free evening.” He glanced down, and took a drawn-out-drink. “Self-defense classes, mostly.”

“That’s good of you.” What were you supposed to say to that? “ _Such a concerned citizen?”_ “Things you learned as a law enforcement officer?”

“As a Marine.” There was a slight smile on his face. _Fuck._

It was that she didn’t know he used to be a Marine… but it was one of those things you didn’t actively think about most of the time, and it was not so nice to have a reminder that he could probably take her down in five seconds. Less, considering her current state.

“Lotta people in NCIS are either from other law enforcement agencies, or from the Armed Forces. Or both.” Had he mistaken her expression for confusion?

She just nodded, and was immensely grateful when Jane wandered over and flopped into the seat Abby had originally occupied.

 

“I guess we started something.” Jane grimaced.

Kate glanced at the crowd, which now seemed to contain at least half the people in the establishment. Maura was showing Martinez some step or other, and DiNozzo and Abby were gyrating awfully close. She did catch Gibbs glowering at the pair for a moment, before he downed the rest of his drink and stood. “Anyone want refills?”

“I’m good.” Kate still had half her glass of water, and she really wasn’t supposed to mix alcohol with the painkillers she was still thinking of downing before the night was over.

Jane raised her almost-full beer in lieu of an audible answer.

 

Kate offered Jane a smile when Gibbs left for the bar, and if it was a little tired, well, she had a right to be, at least a little.

Jane twisted her beer bottle on the table. “It’s good to see you again. I’m glad you could come.”  
“Well, I could hardly go to a kickboxing class tonight.” Kate smirked.

“Do you usually go to a class of some kind?”

“No, that was… meant to be a joke.” Kate offered her a tight smile, and took a sip of her water. This was Maura’s friend, the person she was actually here for, the person she’d actually gotten along with last time, and now she was alternately tense and exhausted and the cohesion was not there. “So this whole evening was your idea?”  
“Yeah, we’re celebrating busting some higher-level drug dealers in the Flannigan mob. I don’t know how much you know about the local Irish mob scene? Anyways, they’re one of the ‘big three,’ and we might be able to move higher up the food chain if we can convince one of the guys we’ve got to talk.”

“Did NCIS help?”

“Actually, yeah. Gibbs is… don’t tell him I said it, but he’s pretty good. Found a warehouse--well, the case isn’t closed, I can’t really say too much. His case took him to what used to be a coke warehouse. We traced it back to the mob drug rings.”

 

Kate both hated and appreciated the reminder of just what a threat Gibbs could be, since she didn't doubt for a moment that the place in question was the storage facility she'd stood in front of a week ago at four in the morning. She would have to ask Mike how he’d done that, made it look like the place belonged to Flannigan operations--actually, she probably shouldn’t, but learning a few new misdirection techniques wouldn’t do her any harm, either.

“I guess that's definitely something to celebrate.”

“Yeah, it is. More drugs we can keep off the streets.” Jane took a deep breath, and then spoke again. “You know, I'm really glad you moved back here. There aren't a lot of people that Maura can… really be herself around, you know? You know her, and she's--yeah, she's a little tense right now, but she's a little less stiff at the same time, if that makes any sense. And I like seeing her like that.”

 _If only she knew…_ Kate glanced down. “I guess living together, getting to know someone like that... I don't let her get stiff and formal, that's all.”

“It's… well, I don’t think Maura would see it this way. She might have something to say, about social customs and boundaries and whatnot being the mark of something-or-other in society, and start talking about monkeys… but I think it's good for her. She said she never had any siblings, but--I don't know. You seem kind of like one for her, and that means something to her. Even if you do get on her nerves and tell embarrassing stories.” There was a laugh, somewhere in that last sentence, but Kate didn't quite hear it. Of course Maura pretended her Da, the mob boss, didn't exist, of course she would say that she had no siblings, since the Isles had no other children, but Kate hadn't expected to be quite so efficiently erased.

 

“You do know Maura well, don't you?” It was vague, on her part, but Jane lifted a shoulder with a little smile.

“I guess I know I've been spending a lot of time with her when I can tell you the weird sort of trivia and studies she's going to bring up in a conversation, huh?”

Not _“too much”_ time with her, Kate noted. Just _“a lot.”_ “She needs someone who gets her, and that's never really been me.”

“I can't compete with your history with her.” There was a flash of a self-deprecating grimace, and then Jane lifted her bottle to her lips.

“I think you can.” Kate stood, reaching for her crutches. She was going to need to swallow more painkillers soon, and that would likely both raise questions and make her loopy and a little too talkative. “Um, I need to head out, rest up. I’m going to head outside, call a cab. Do you mind letting Maura know?”

“Yeah, sure, just wait a second and we can all head out together and wait with you.” Jane began to slide out of the booth.

 

Kate had no such plans, really, but did stay in her seat while she called the taxi service she’d used to get here, and by the time that was done, the whole group had somehow found its way back to the table. She nodded, and said goodbye, and shook hands. She paid her tab, and gave her (non-business) number to Abby and Jane (reluctantly, though she didn’t let it show), and definitely _didn’t_ give it to DiNozzo. She congratulated Martinez and Jane on the bust, and learned that, unfortunately (so very unfortunately) Gibbs’ team hadn’t turned up their missing Naval officer yet, and by the time she was actually out the doors of the pub with Maura on her heels, she figured the cab was due to pull up any minute now.

 

“You know this means I get to be dragged out to these kinds of gatherings again in the future, now, right? Sure you don’t want to just call it off?” Kate knew she was coming across as bitchy, but she was tired, damn it, and it all really didn’t have to be this complicated, because now three more people knew her face, even if she really didn’t think she’d see them at all in the future, given their circles.

“Why? Did it go so badly?” Maura sounded almost a little hurt.

“I--no, it didn’t go _badly_ . I just--it’s just unnecessary. Makes everything that much more complicated.” Kate paused, exhaled a moment, and added, a little more softly. “They’re _your_ people, Maur. Not mine.”

“They could be yours.” Her sister’s voice was small. “If you’d just try a little.”

 

She had been so against contact before, and now? Kate didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry. “No, Maura, they really couldn’t.”

She was grateful when the taxi pulled up in that moment, and she avoided looking at Maura as she slid into the car.


End file.
